


After the Battle

by jynx



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Durin Family Feels, Eating Disorders, Gen, Night Terrors, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynx/pseuds/jynx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 Dwarves after the Battle of the Five Armies. (Everybody lives)</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Battle

**Author's Note:**

> Hobbit Kink Meme Prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5821.html?thread=12520893#t12520893 
> 
> A look, maybe five times, at how the dwarves are dealing with post battle effects. Everyone lives.
> 
> Kili has nightmares so bad and violent he needs to be drugged to sleep.  
> Dwalin can't stand the sight of his weapons that almost failed his king.  
> Ori has a panic attack at anything red on his hands.  
> Just suggestions.
> 
> My friend chose Bifur, Bombur, Kili, Thorin, and Ori.

**Bombur**

He used to be jolly, hungry, used to being teased and coddled by his older brother, Bofur. He used to eat, wanting nothing but to quench the gnawing ache in his belly that wandering on the roads as a babe with Bofur had bred in him. He was happy, cheerful, eating and sleeping whenever he could. 

That was Before. Before the Battle.

Food makes him queasy now, the very sight of what used to please him now sends him scurrying from the room. He cannot see it as it is, only sees the rot of what it will become. He cannot sleep, for when he closes his eyes all he can see is a vast field of dead. He sees his brother, Bofur, torn apart by wargs and his cousin, Bifur, hacked to pieces by Orcs. They are alive, well, and healthy, but he cannot see that. He walks the halls of Erebor, weight sliding from his frame until he is all beard and hair.

Bofur tries to help him and cannot. Bombur cannot stand to burden his brother anymore than he already has. It is in the shape of a large dwarf lady that Bombur find his peace, the woman pulling him from his long walks to the kitchens of Erebor. She’s a baker, and he a cook. And she asks him to cook for her, and he does. And she, in turn, feeds him her cakes and pastries. It is in her sweets that Bombur starts to eat again and can finally sleep again. They wed months after meeting and Bombur could not be happier.

**Kili**

Kili could not sleep. The thought of sleep sent cold shivers down his spine and left his hands and legs shaking horribly. If he did sleep, he suffered through the most terrible of dreams. He would wake screaming, held down on the bed by Fili, his brother’s eye blackened or his nose and lip leaking blood. He could never remember what it was that scared him so but he could not bear to sleep.

Fili would tell him, as he held Kili on the bed, that he flailed and screamed, that he would bolt right out of bed and hit the wall with his back, fighting off invisible foes. Oin and Dori told them that Kili was suffering night terrors and that they would pass, with time.

They only got worse.

Kili had always shared a room with Fili, often sleeping in the same bed as him when they had to. Need had given way to habit and had given way to preference. It had always been more comfortable to hear Fili’s heart under his head, lulling him to sleep. No more. Thorin had firmly told Fili and Kili they would have their own rooms until this passed when Kili had come out of his fugue to find a knife in his hand and Fili’s hands bleeding. Kili’s room had been moved far enough away from the others that his screams would not disturb anyone’s sleep.

There had been many suggestions of cures but nothing took. Almost a year after the Battle, when all others of the Company had laid their demons to rest, Kili was still suffering. Fili came to him with a bottle of clear liquid.

“Take it,” he told Kili. “It will help you sleep.”

Kili shook his head, pressing the bottle back into Fili’s hands. “No. I’ve tried to drink. It only makes them worse.”

“Nay, it’s a sedative, brother,” Fili said, handing it back. “Trust me.”

Kili hesitated and nodded, wrapping his fingers around the bottle. “Will...will you stay with me, tonight? Just in case?”

Fili kissed his brother’s cheek and hugged him. “I would have it no other way, Kili. It troubles my sleep to know that you cannot.”

Kili wrapped his arms around his brother and let himself hope.

**Thorin**

It hurt to look at the treasure rooms, to see the heaps of coin and the large sprawl of gems. So much of it was tinged with blood in his mind, after everything everyone had gone through, after what he had put his nephews through, he did not think it was worth it. It had brought him under its spell, the same spell that had driven his grandfather and his father mad. It was too much.

He stayed away from the treasure rooms, refusing to see the curse of his family, the curse of his race. He instead watched his family, his sister taking up residence of Erebor with a ferociousness that he had not seen in her since Frerin was still with them. She ordered about the whole of the mountain, doing her single-minded best to bring Erebor back to the beauty it had been before the dragon. Fili he watched, smiling at his heir’s golden head kissed with the silver circlet of the crown prince, as he went about his duties. There were none who did not love Fili and his soft, kind words. Their people would follow Fili into the very bowels of Moria, if he so chose. It was a loyalty worthy of the House of Durin.

Kili...Thorin avoided his youngest nephew as much as he possibly could. They had not been able to find the two brothers immediately after the Battle. It had taken a full day and night before they had been found. Fili had been all right, his wounds not serious enough to have died from them. Kili they almost did not find, buried under the bodies of the dead and slowly bleeding from many wounds. His screams at night echoed deep through the royal palace, disturbing the sleep of many, no matter how deep they made his rooms.

Thorin would do anything, fight any dragon, give up any gold, spill his own blood if only he could stop his nephew’s screams. It would only be a matter of time before his voice joined Kili’s at night...

**Ori**

The sight of red sent a wave of icy fear pricking along his lungs, made his heart beat faster and harder than the hammers of their folk, made his breath catch in his throat until he felt like he would die without being able to breathe another sweet breath of free air. It did not matter what red it was, be it the red yarn he had been so fond of Before, or wine that had simply spilled from his cup. Before it had been green food he avoided, but now he would avoid both red and green. 

He could not stand the sight. He ripped down the red wall coverings, tossed the red covers from his bed, burned his red sweaters. He could not stand the sight. He would not stand it. He would destroy anything red if he had to, destroy all the red in Erebor. 

**Bifur**

He did not have any traumatic memories of the Battle. He did not have nightmares, or be unable to eat, or be unable to see the color red. He spent his time with Bofur, quietly helping his cousin make toys, slowly carving wood and stone into fantastical shapes. He brought his creations to the children who began to come back to Erebor, watching their shy and wary face break into happy smiles as they grabbed the toys from him and ran off.

There was nothing, he decided, more perfect than the innocent smile of a child.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [That Which Thickens Blood with Cold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/919424) by [Bofur1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1)




End file.
